It Happens to be You
by StraightIsNotMyDivision
Summary: John accuses Sherlock of sleeping with Mary and of being in love with her based upon his apparent sadness at the wedding and on her behaviour. What he finds out is that he is an idiot and he missed something fairly obvious. TW: Drug use. There will be more to come at a later time, but enjoy this first chapter for now.


DISCLAIMER- Sherlock isn't my original character nor are any of the other characters in this. This is only me trying my hand at writing characters that originally belong to sir Arthur Conan Doyle and now are in a sense exploited by many other than me, including the creators and writers of Sherlock, Elementary, and many other adaptations. (Not that I'm not ecstatic that they do so.)

TW: Mentions of drug use. If that bothers you, probably best not to read it.

John stormed into 221B Baker Street to find Sherlock lying face down on the sofa. "You have a hell of a lot of explaining to do." He growls lowly. "Get up and sit correctly so that I can talk to you. This is important."

Sherlock looked up. "What are you babbling about?" He asked, sitting up to prevent his voice being muffled by the pillow.

"Do the two of you honestly think that I'm an idiot?" John asked incredulously. "Really though! Did you not think I'm smart enough to put two and two together here?" He sat down in Sherlock's chair since his was gone. "You left the wedding early. You looked like it was painful for you to be there. Mary has been sneaking around and deleted all some messages off of her phone. There are no messages on there between the two of you, but I know that she has texted you before. She's always going off somewhere and she always just claims shes going 'out'. So I followed her once and she came here." He said all of this quickly, staring down at the floor. "Here!" He shouted. "What am I supposed to make of that?"

Sherlock stared at him blankly. "I don't….I don't understand what you are implying." He said, eyes narrowing briefly. John couldn't have found out. Was he listening in on conversations?

"Of course you don't." He shook his head. "You never fucking do." He shook his head and laughed, though it was bitter and completely void of humour. "Are you sleeping with my wife?" He asked simply, not bothering to put it in a less frank way. "Are you? Are you in love with her? Just tell me honestly, Sherlock."

Sherlock's eyes widened. "What? No!" He stood up. "That's what you think of me. That's what you think of her?" He stormed into the kitchen furiously. "What a terrible thing to ask me. Of course I'm not sleeping with Mary." He poured himself a coffee and stirred in sugar.

"Well what else am I supposed to assume?" John demanded. "You know the signs, Sherlock. Everything I mentioned. If I were a client you'd tell me that she was having an affair." He followed Sherlock into the kitchen and sat down at the table. "Wouldn't you? It matches up."

Sherlock sighed. "Well that is simply not the case here. I apologize for leading you to assume otherwise." He sat down as well and stared down into his coffee without drinking it. John wouldn't believe him unless he countered it.

John leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Well what should I believe?" He asked. "Why did she come here without telling me? Why is she sneaking around. Why did you leave the wedding early looking like someone had slapped you in the face?"

Sherlock inhaled and let the breath out slowly. "I highly doubt the answer to that is something you want to know." He mumbled.

John shook his head. "No. Sherlock, enlighten me. I'm really having a hard time believing that she isn't cheating on me with my best friend, so prove me wrong."

"Mary and I were simply having discussions. I asked her to come over after she...deduced something that I'd rather have kept a secret." He stated, still refusing to look John in the eyes. His cheeks were slowly beginning to darken as a blush spread across them. All of this time he'd been struggling to keep John from finding this out and John assumes he's sleeping with his wife. Of course now he has to tell him.

"Discussions about what? What did she deduce?" John asked, tilting his head in slight confusion. Sherlock looked thoroughly embarrassed.

Sherlock took a shuddering breath. "She discovered that I have a romantic attachment to someone and that it was upsetting me." He glanced up momentarily and then back down into his coffee. "I've never had emotions like this before and was therefore clueless on how to go about ridding myself of them."

John nodded. "Okay. Thank god." He shook his head and covered his face with his hands. "That is quite the relief."

Sherlock turned away from him. "I'm a little offended that you actually thought-"

"No, I'm sorry." John insisted. "I'm so sorry. I jumped to conclusions." He looked back up. "Don't be mad. Anyone sane would have assumed. Anyway, why would you want to get rid of the emotions? Why don't you...ask them out?"

Sherlock sighed. "This person happens to be in a committed relationship. Married, in fact." He sat back in his chair and sipped his coffee.

"Well who is it?" John asked, lifting his eyebrows. "Come on, just tell me. Why can you talk about this with Mary and not me?"

Sherlock groaned. "No. I can't tell you." He shook his head. "Please just drop it." He stared down at the floor, still tormented by the heat across his face.

"Why can't you tell me?" John demanded. " I happen to be your best friend." He crossed his arms.

Sherlock looked up and met his eyes. "The person also happens to be you!" He practically shouted. "And yes, I assumed you were too much of an idiot to put two and two together in this respect. I've only felt this way for three bloody years!" He slammed his coffee down on the table and stood in one swift movement, leaving the kitchen and retreating to his room.

John sat in the chair at the kitchen table, stunned. He couldn't move, but somehow all the moments started playing in his mind like a film. All the looks, the gazes, that he'd caught Sherlock casting his way, all the times he'd defended him, not to mention the speech. The best man speech. Until now he hadn't realized. The speech was hardly a speech at all. It was a love letter. He put his head in his hands. "Oh my god…" He whispered to himself. How had he not realized this before? He thought about texting or calling Mary to ask her about it. She must have noticed and asked Sherlock about it.

After about ten minutes he decided against it and stood, hesitantly going to Sherlock's bedroom door and knocking quietly. "Sherlock?" He muttered. "Can I come in?" There was no response. He bit his lip. "Sherlock? I'm going to come in." He was worried.

He let out a breath at the sight that greeted him. A practically catatonic Sherlock sat in the corner of the room on the floor with a belt around one arm and a needle in the other hand. "Dammit." He huffed, rushing over and kneeling by him. "Sherlock?" He snapped in front of his face. He let out a sigh of relief when Sherlock's eyes flicked over to his face for a moment. He set about undoing the belt and taking away the needle and the rest of the drug that hadn't been used. At least he hadn't overdosed. He was okay. Just high.

After cleaning up, John sat down next to Sherlock and leaned against the wall. "Why did you do this?" He asked sternly. "You'd been doing well."

"How would y-you know?" Sherlock slurred. "You haven't exactly been 'round to see." He blinked rapidly and then finally settled on just closing his eyes.

John was about to protest but then realized that the statement was completely true. He could argue that he was just trying to make time to be with his wife that he'd just married, but that was just an excuse somehow. She'd spent more time with him than he had in the past weeks. "You're right." He hummed. "I'm sorry, Sherlock."

John heard a noise from Sherlock and looked over. His mouth dropped open as he realized that the noise had been a whimper and Sherlock's face had a few tears rolling down it. Obviously the drugs had taken away from the emotionless image he tried so hard to maintain. John swallowed thickly and reached out to wipe the tears away. "God...Sherlock I am so sorry."

Sherlock didn't say another word and John pulled away after a moment. He sat there for probably an hour before he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He pulled it out.

Where are you? - Mary

Baker Street. Sherlock told me. -JW

He did? - Mary

I didn't really give him a choice. I accused him of being in love with you. -JW

On my way over. -Mary

John dropped the phone and let it fall onto the floor. "Mary is coming over." He said. He glanced over at Sherlock only to find that he'd fallen asleep. He sighed and stood up, managing to get Sherlock into the bed without waking him. He pulled the blankets over him and closed the blinds, leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

After pouring himself a cup of coffee he sat down on the sofa and waited for Mary with something inside of him shouting angrily. How could he have been that dense? How could he have missed it when it was so obvious?

Mary walked in and stalked right over to where he sat on the sofa. "Are you an idiot?" She demanded, sitting beside him and glaring at him. "Do you know how much that probably hurt him?"

John nodded and huffed. "I know. I'm sorry. I feel horrible." He admitted. "He relapsed right after he told me. Ran off to his room and by the time I got in there he'd already-"

"He relapsed on our wedding night, John." She cut him off. "He's been doing it since then." She groaned. "You just asked him if he was in love with me? That's all you asked?"

John closed his eyes. Since their wedding night? He felt so ashamed of himself. He claimed to be Sherlock's best friend but so much time had passed and he hadn't even noticed that he was dying inside. "I may have asked him if he was sleeping with you." He whispered.

Mary frowned. "I am so pleased that there is so much trust in our relationship." She said curtly. "I'm not cheating on you, John. And if you'd looked a little closer you'd have seen that it's you he's in love with."

John reached out to her. "I'm sorry, Mary." He insisted. "I feel like an idiot. I never should have assumed anything like that." He put a hand on her shoulder and pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"Don't worry about me right now. Is he asleep?" She asked, shrugging away from him. "He's probably worried that you'll leave him now. He doesn't want anything to change. You have to somehow assure him that everything is okay and the two of you are still best friends."

John nodded and closed his eyes. "I… yeah." He sighed. "I'll stay tonight and I'll spend the morning with him and make sure he knows that." The only thing, however, that he was capable of thinking about, was how much he wished that he'd known sooner.

Mary nodded. "Okay then." She stood up. "I'm going to go home. It's late." She started towards the door.

John jumped up and followed her. "Wait." He wrapped his hand around her wrist and pulled her back. "I love you so much." He whispered, scared that she was angry at him.

She sighed and pressed a kiss to his lips. "I love you too."


End file.
